


Unexpected Guest

by Baristaproblems



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Other, hands up if you recognize the scene!, inspired by scene with Lito, sassy gay lovers, sense8 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:57:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baristaproblems/pseuds/Baristaproblems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newly returned home from his latest mission, Bond doesn't expect to be greeted by a friendly face at the airport....Nor does he expect his work to quite literally have followed him home. Desperate to maintain the cover established during the mission (which surprisingly did not end up with an entire country exploding) Q steps in to aid James. Both are surprised to realize along the way that the cover story comes to them with an unnatural ease, and that neither is quite so willing to give up this new found dynamic to their relationship. </p>
<p>Inspired by a scene in Sense8, sassy, quick thinking Q covers Bond's butt and finally realizes just how nice a butt it is. Fluff and smut ensue!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first posting to A03, so if there's any major errors I apologize!
> 
> I have reviewed this but as of now it is totally unbeta'd, and I finished it at 3:30am so....I apologize for the abrupt ending to this first chapter! Part of me was greatly amused by it however, so I've left it as is. I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or anything related to the James Bond series in this work, just borrowing the names and characters for a bit. Ta!

     

* * *

 

 

        Glancing at his watch, Q held back yet another sigh. Even with the entirety of Q Branch working to ensure a smooth arrival home, trust Bond to be late.  
Well, perhaps not late as such, but given that Q knew (for a fact) that the agent had been seated in first class, it would stand to reason that James would NOT be the last bloody passenger off the plane.  
Of course, when has James Bond ever been reasonable?

  
Patience was thankfully a virtue that the Quartermaster had come to possess in spades since taking over his branch, and while he was bordering on its limits, it would take more than a dawdling double-O to break him.

  
“Waiting for someone in particular?” came a deep drawl from over the Quartermaster’s shoulder. (How in the seven hells had he managed to not only slip past Q, but double back on him as well? Bloody Agents.)

  
“Not any more it would seem.” Q answered calmly, refusing to let any surprise or distress colour his tone. Keeping his body language neutral, the young man pushed away from the pillar he had been leaning on, and turned to face his new companion. “I admit I had been beginning to worry. I knew you’d take longer to disembark, what with your age and all, but really Bond, perhaps we ought to consider having you escorted off.”

  
A sharp tightening at the corner of James’ eyes accompanied the polished smile he gave Q, “Not there just yet Q,” he glanced around quickly with a frown, “…Where is Tanner? Don’t tell me they let a child come alone to the airport…”

  
“How drole, Bond.” Q sighed in return, shaking his head, “…but if you please, I’m simply here to get my tech from you and begin the analysis.”

  
“You don’t mean that fancy little tracer you had sewn into me, do you Q?”

  
“Fancy little - “ Q took a calming breath. “…It was hardly a fancy little tracer, Bond. It is a sophisticated piece of equipment - medical technology in fact, designed to record every biometric reading feasible so that we can better under the physiological stresses occurring for agents during a mission. I - oh bother, why I am even wasting my breath? Yes, Bond. I’m here for my fancy little tracer that we _injected_  as a sub-dermal implant, thank you very much. There was no sewing.” The last was a grumble, halfheartedly trying to defend his honour.

  
“Why Q,” the agent in question smirked, seemingly pleased by the flustered response, “..If you wanted to get my shirt off that badly, you didn’t need to make a special trip to the airport.”

  
After a mental count down to 10 in his head, Q met James’ eyes. “I thought that it might just be nice for a change, 007, if you had someone here to greet you. I see I was mistaken. Next time, I’ll just send a team from medical to meet you at your apartment. Seeing as I DO need the chip to begin analyzing the data as soon as possible however, and as I KNOW you won’t properly check in at HQ for another two days, why don’t we soldier on with the current plan, hmm? Come along Bond.” With that abrupt dismissal, the Quartermaster turned and began heading towards the short term parkade.

  
Bond chose wisely for once to keep his mouth shut, and follow his Quartermaster. It admittedly had been a nice thought on the boffins part, and having the extraction take place at his own home with Q, instead of in Medical with those insufferable ‘doctors’…well, it was a much preferable alternative that Q was giving him.  
Catching up to Q, James was surprised to see the younger man stop at an Aston Martin DBS. It was an older car to be sure, but clearly maintained and cared for by its owner. Surely, it couldn’t actually belong to Q, could it? The vintage vehicle was far too much of a statement piece, it was…well it had to be what,a 1969? How would Q of all people trust technology that old?

  
“1971.” Q answered the unspoken question with a sigh, “It’s a personal hobby more than anything, now will you please stop staring and get IN the vehicle?”

  
A charming smile was James’ only armor, having been caught in the act. With all the grace that a man coming off a 16hour flight should not posses, Bond got in, and took up residence in the passenger’s seat. The leather groaned under the stretch of his weight, and the faint lingering smell of tobacco and spice hung in the car. It took a moment to place the spice notes, a complex blend that while familiar was still new to his palate.

  
Chai, he finally decided. Definitely Q’s car. (Chai, Bond had discovered only last month, was the Quartermaster’s guilty pleasure. So too, it seemed, was smoking)  
Q spared him barely a passing glance, getting the car into gear and beginning a surprisingly peaceful drive to James’ flat. They sat in companionable silence, the agent closing his eyes and allowing the scent he now recognized as Q to wash over him. It was oddly soothing to the frayed nerves of an agent fresh off mission, and the silence, broken only by the white noise of the Aston’s wipe blades fighting off London rain was a welcome soundtrack to their journey.

  
Their arrival at the apartment building was hardly note worthy; just another pair of Londoner’s returning home at some ungodly hour after a business trip. It was almost domestic really, the ease with which they both navigated to Bond’s flat. One, out of muscle memory and practice in far less lucid states than he was in now, and the other out of boredom and devastating intellect in possession of an internet connection. (I.E - he found the blue prints for Bond’s building. NO it was NOT favouritism, or some weird obsession….Be QUIET Eve)

  
“Should I be concerned that you’ve a key to my apartment, Quartermaster?” James finally spoke, breaking their silence as he realized it wasn’t himself unlocking the door to his own apartment.

  
“I’d be more concerned, Bond, that it took you that long to notice.” Q’s smirk rivaled that of the infamous double-O, if only for just a moment. “But if you’re concerned I can assure you, what little remains of your virtue shall go unmarred by the lecherous advances of the head of Q branch..” the young man continued, an air of such sobriety and pomp to his tone that it could only result in the uncomfortable realization that Q was indeed ‘ trying to make a funny’, more than just the usual back and forth banter he shared with the agent.

  
“Hardly my concern, Q, considering you’re still losing your milk teeth, I can’t think of you as a risk….merely….a little over zealous in your work if you’re carrying around keys to the flats of your double-O agents. Unless of course it’s just mine. Am I special to you Q?” the agent smirked, all sharp eyes and too many teeth, handsome in the way a great white might be considered magnificent - for all its predatory beauty and design.

  
“No, 007″ Q sighed, shaking his head, “Each branch head is assigned an agent. Being the new comer to the executive ranks I was given the dubious honour of your esteemed self. Your plants don’t water themselves while you’re away you know.” he frowned.

  
Bond blinked. “I have _plants_!?”


	2. Foliage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At home surgery takes place surrounded by the greenery allegedly invading Bond's apartment.
> 
> *spoilers for Sense8 as a scene contained within this chapter is inspired by, and directly quotes from a scene in the show*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O..O I am dying. This is the second time I had to write this chapter out!!! Long story short, I can't be trusted with uploading things because I somehow lose it in the process. All of it.
> 
> On that note, mentally I am exhausted! So I truly apologize for an formatting issues, grammar errors, or the like. Still totally unbeta'd.
> 
> Happier note:
> 
> HOLY BLEEPING BLEEPITY BLEEPS.
> 
> So many kudos! and bookmarks?!!? It means so much to me that you're all enjoying this! I hope I can keep it up :) 
> 
> Please comment, etc and let me know. I welcome the feedback. So...without further ado, Chapter 2! Let's see if it passes muster : )
> 
> ****WARNING: spoilers for Sense8; as noted in chapter summary this is where the scene from Sense8 takes place. The thing that started it all! It inspired this whole fic, and is directly quoted here at the end of the chapter. Check the show out guys it is amazeballs, and you need to see the actual scene cuz it's so much better. Thank you Anon for pointing out it wasn't very clear before, I didn't mean for it seem/appear uncredited*****
> 
> ****DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything James Bond, or Sense8 here. Just borrowed the characters, and some dialogue for the final part of the chapter******

* * *

 

  
_Bond blinked. “I have plants!?”_

 

    For a moment Q could only stare. If he were being fair, he would recall that he had thought Bond might not notice the plants. Actually, he had expected it, which was why he’d chosen heartier varieties. Another, smaller portion of him (very, very, very small, miniscule in fact)was disappointed; he’d gone to a great bit of effort selecting those plants, and – no, no, it wouldn’t do to make this a personal matter. Bond was Bond after all, which brought Q to his last and most significant thought. Bond was trained to notice the slightest difference in his surroundings, or in his targets. There were entire classes on it double-O training. Spotting that a folder was not in the exact same position you left it in could mean the difference between needing a plane ticket, or a body bag to get home.

_Bond could tell if something had moved even a millimeter away from where he last saw it, but he couldn’t see the fucking fichus in his living room._

(Okay, maybe it had gotten a little personal)

Of course, all these thoughts moved through Q’s almost computerized mind at inhuman speed, only to be stamped down for the sake of British propriety. (And not letting Bond have the upper hand) His pause merely touched on being a second too long, and if there was the faintest of twitches to his cheek, well, he thought he hid it well.

“I think…” the boffin spoke with all the concern of an adult child addressing a geriatric parent, “that you should retest your visual acuity. It might be time to admit you need glasses, 007. Shall I make the appointment with Medical for you?”

Bond allowed a momentary tension to creep over himself at the threat, before his training kicked in and he resumed his nonchalant demeanor, hiding all sign of reaction to the taunt “…I don’t think you’d dare Q, inflicting me upon Medical? No. You like those pill pushers. Besides, I don’t see a reason for us to be a matching set.”

“Matching set?” Q frowned as he opened the apartment door and stepped in, not hesitating to make himself at home. “..What – oh,” a hand unconsciously touched his own glasses before he shook his head with a wry smile. “..Bond, I’m legally blind without these. It’s hardly a fashion statement. Although, you’d be hard pressed to make them look as good as I do.” he smirked, watching as Bond hung his suit jacket up. Where the agent seemed to move with almost military precision for the task, Q was happy to tug off his scarf and toss it along with his jacket over the back of the couch. On principle, he was a neat person, but he’d been in Bond’s apartment enough times now he had no hesitation becoming comfortable. What was a home if not to be lived in? Besides, he wouldn’t be staying long, he reasoned as he made towards the master bath.

“Come along, Bond!” Q called over his shoulder, “Sooner this is done the sooner you can go on your post mission bender.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” James retorted, appearing behind Q in the bathroom doorway, “…Here I thought it was called boozing and womanizing.”

“No, that’s the day-to-day. Post-mission is a demon all its own. I should know, since I’m usually the one cleaning up your messes” the younger man said with a leveled look at the agent. “Now – AH, you hold that thought right there James Bond, if you want to have a working internet connection again sometime within the next five years.” Choosing wisely to close his mouth, and bite back the no doubt perverted response he had had prepared, James took a seat on the bathroom counter. It was a sight more sanitary feeling than the toilet and a sight more comfortable than the edge of the claw-foot tub. (Bond was nothing if not a hedonist)

“It should be relatively safe to perform the extraction” Q mused, unpacking the surgical implements from his bag, “I stopped by before gathering you at the airport to sterilize everything in here.”

“..So you weren’t kidding about having access to my flat then…” Bond frowned, though no real danger lurked behind his words. It was easy to see MI6’s logic in having an assigned executive to each double-O. None of the agents had any real family to speak of, and certainly none who knew the truth or could be allowed to know. It would also help normalize agents in the eyes of their neighbours, seeing a consistent ‘visitor’ to the flat, and knowing at least one contact if something went wrong and police need to be called. The emergency contact phone-call would go straight to an MI6 executive, meaning containment of the problem could be handled far more swiftly. Besides which, it couldn’t hurt to have someone checking on the unit when most agents spend more time overseas than at home. Even when they were on British soil, it was rare for an Agent to be able to relax enough to actually spend any length of time in an 800sq ft London prison. Q merely shrugged, knowing that James could piece an explanation together for himself.

“Not something I’m inclined to joke over. Now then, off with the shirt shall we?” He nodded to Bond, who only  _just_ managed to hold back a joke as he obliged the Quartermaster.

“Where did you get your medical degree again?” The agent joked as Q moved his arm aside, and wiped down his left pectoralis and axillary area, effectively sterilizing it.

“Queen Mary University of London,” Q answered succinctly, reaching for a scalpel.

“What? Really?”

“Yes. It’s amazing what one can do with photoshop and a printer.” Q pressed the blade swiftly, but firm just left of the pectoralis, but before the axilla. It was small and precise, not warranting the effort of anesthesia in such a setting, not for a double-O anyway.

“Photoshop?” James didn’t bother to hide a laugh, not even reacting to the mild sting of the scalpel, “...the weapon of Reddit and 4chan?”

Q froze, tweezers poised to begin the extraction of the chip. “Dear lord Bond, what dark corners of the internet do you peruse?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he smirked, though it turned to a grimace as Q managed to successfully grip the chip and remove it through the small incision.

“My mother warned me against internet trolls, and dirty old men Bond. I’m sorry.” the laughing reply of the boffin echoed in the room as he once again sterilized the wound, before spraying it with a bonding agent to seal it shut.

“Bloody hell!” James bit out, ever dramatic, and ready to make the Quartermaster feel guilty “What was in that spray? Lemon juice? Crushed jalapeno?”

“A long list a medical ingredients you couldn’t begin to pronounce,” Q bit back. No guilt then. “Now please don’t curse in front of Fredrick.”

“…Fredrick?” the agent frowned, dramatics forgotten in the wake of confusion. Who was Fredrick?

“Yes, Fredrick.” Q nodded to the previously unnoticed spider plant sitting on top of the shelf over the towel rack.

“…You…there really is plants…” Bond struggled to comprehend. He hadn’t actually thought Q would have gone to that level of effort to make his presence believable to the neighbours.

“Of course I did. Shoddy planning is what gets people caught, 007! I couldn’t risk it, not when you frankly have the nosiest neighbours this side of the Thames. Besides, your building doesn’t allow pets.”

“..Yes, all right, I concede the point, but….you NAMED it?”

A brilliant blush began to paint Q’s cheeks, “You can’t talk to it without it having a name Bond, that’s just –“

“You named it.”

“W-what? Yes.”

“The plant.”

“Fredrick.”

“The leafy thing, on the shelf.”

“Yes, Fredrick.”

“..a - and you talk to it.”

“Yes.”

“To the plant.”

“Fredrick."

“The PLANT on the shelf.”

“Yes. Fredrick. I talk to Fredrick.”

“I need a moment.” Bond stood, every ounce of effort going towards containing his laughter. Q opened his mouth, no doubt ready to argue the merits of talking to plants as supported by numerous scientific studies, but before he could speak he was cut off the startling shrill chime of Bond’s phone from the kitchen. Judging by the agent’s frown, he found it just as odd that at 2:30am local time, someone was buzzing his flat.

“…Expecting company, Bond?” Q quipped, already following James to the kitchen.

“Anyone of import is already here, or overseas…” he frowned, thinking of Alec, “..and Moneypenny would simply text me.” In response, Q merely raised a brow and waited for James to answer the phone. He always was a little too curious for his own good, and there was really only one way to satisfy that curiosity at the moment. James met Q’s gaze as he picked the phone up.

”…Hello?” “…Jamie? “a bubbly, rich, and decidedly young woman’s voice filtered through. It was familiar, but not from long past, no, it sounded like…

“Genette” Bond’s stomach sank as he was rewarding with shrill squeals of delight.

“You remember me, Jamie!”

 

The daughter of his last mark.

The barely legal daughter of his last mark.

His only child.

 

Genette quickly filtered through the database that was Q’s eidetic memory, and it took him almost no time to slot the pieces together. The daughter of Markus Vanboerg, she just turned 18 this past week as it happened. It seemed she had developed a strange ‘crush’ on Bond during the mission, something that had been noted but not affected the overall mission. James had been ‘hired’ as a bodyguard for the family, and it had been a purely recon assignment. Somehow, Bond had acquired the evidence MI6 needed against Markus without the mission actually going all to hell. He’d played his role perfectly, and claimed family issues necessitated his return to England. It had been six months of grueling work, and it paid off. As far as MI6 knew the cover story for James had held, and Markus had no reason to suspect he’d been double crossed by his once bodyguard. Something M was desperate to keep in place in case they needed to send James back for more intel, or use the cover in another mission. Markus had assured James that if he needed, there’d be a glowing reference provided for him in the future. Immediately, Q’s instincts as Quartermaster took over and he made the call he knew James would come to as well.

Preserve the mission at all cost.

“Bring her up.”

James froze, recognizing the clipped tones as that of his Quartermaster, and lead on missions. His eyes narrowed, for all he listened to Q on missions, he wouldn’t be 007 if he decided to follow orders blindly. Q shook his head, voice low so it wouldn’t carry through the speaker to Genette.

“We don’t know why she is really here, though I can guess.” He smirked wryly, “…No time for me to make a subtle exit either. We don’t know if we’re under surveillance, if this is some come of test. Until we know more, the mission is resumed.”

The decisive order was clear, Q was a man with a plan and they couldn’t stall too long or risk Genette getting suspicious.

“Not to mention the fact she is an 18yr old girl, Bond, and it is 2:30am. We are decidedly NOT turning her away. Let her up. I’ll think of something while you focus on getting her up here with the least disturbance to the neighbours as possible. I’ve just gotten them thinking you’re a decent bloke, Bond, don’t go cocking that up for me.”

Raising a brow in response, amusement seemed to dance in Bond’s eyes. A feisty Quartermaster was always the most fun on missions.

“….Genette?” he spoke calmly into the receiver, a kind uncle trying to reason with their rebellious teenage niece. A comparison Q found most amusing, and one Bond decidedly would not. “…Genette, stay there, I’ll come down and meet you all right? We can talk up in my flat.”

Shaking his head Q watched as Bond hung up the receiver quickly, clearly not impressed with whatever sort of flirtatious response he’d gotten.

“Off you pop, Agent.” Q sing-songed, heading back down towards the master suite.

“Q? What are you – “

“Bond! Don’t keep a girl waiting!” he scolded, disappearing from sight, mind no doubt working a mile a minute.

Oh yes. This would be interesting.

 

Slipping out of the flat, Bond used every ounce of his training to get downstairs to the lobby unnoticed. He was thankful that at least it wasn’t the middle of the day where they were sure to be seen by the doorman. Even with no one watching but security cameras (that Q was definitely going to erase) it was unnerving to see the young girl bouncing with excitement in front of the door, waving her hands in greeting. No one should be that pleased to see a man with a license to kill. She was still so young, and while James didn’t doubt her looks would refine in the next couple years, she was already quite beautiful in a traditional Scandinavian way. This was not someone who should be following a man nearly twice her age across countries. Her sky blue eyes and long ash blonde curls more appropriately cast her in the role of his niece, not his lover. James hoped strongly she’d be able to see this all for herself with some gentle prodding.

“Genette…” he sighed, trying to keep his tone mild as he opened the main door to let her in, “…Come along. My flat’s this way, it’d be more appropriate to talk there. Perhaps you can tell me why you showed up at my doorstep at 2:30am, young lady?” James raised his brow in the most valiant attempt to be the scolding uncle. He could, and has charmed his way into the bed of many women – surely he can do the opposite. Hopefully, he could do it without offending her. It wouldn’t do good to have her whining to daddy about how ‘Jamie’ had broken her heart after all.

“Oh, yes…” she smirked taking his hand, “…Please. Let’s go to your flat.”

With an inward sigh, he led Genette to the stairwell, pointedly not offering to carry her small travel bag. The stairway doors might be noisy opening, but somehow staying in the confined space of an elevator with her didn’t seem like a wise idea at this point. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to question his choice, and though the odd giggle escaped her, he couldn’t complain about her making a scene in the halls. More than anything, James could see the jet-lag  already taking hold of her mind, making it hard to truly focus. All he could really see was a young girl, jet-lagged and alone in a foreign country at 2:30am because she’d made a fool-hardy choice. James paused before the door to his apartment, sparing a moment to question the sanity of this decision, of letting a young girl into the apartment of a double-O. A noise at the end of the hall told him that within a moment Mr. Oleky would be coming out to pace the hallway. Bloody insomniac neighbours. It seems that the decision was made for him.

“Quiet” he cautioned as another small giggle left the girl. Keeping one eye end of the hall, he opened the door and nudged Genette into the flat. “My neighbours are all very light sleepers, wouldn’t want to disturb them.”

“Oh no…” Genette agreed, setting her travel bag down by the door. “…I guess we will have to be quiet then, won’t we Jamie?” Spinning to face the agent, she let her eyes rake over him. “Were you getting ready for bed?” She asked, innocently enough even as her gaze lingered on his exposed torso. He raised a brow in response, amused by her attempts at gaining his particular attentions.

“…Genette, it’s nearly 3am and I just spent most of my day travelling. I will let you draw your own conclusions”

“So, you must be very eager to get to bed then…” she smiled, watching him as she slowly backed down the hallway. “...Is it this way?”

“Genette…” James sighed, moving after her quickly, “I’m not sure exactly what you think is going on here, but whatever it is, is NOT going to be going on in my bedroom.”

“Please Jamie...” she laughed, light heartedly darting away from the hand that reached out to grab hold of her wrist and stop her retreat, “…All those times you were assigned guard duty over me….I know you were watching. You noticed me, just like I noticed you.” Confident in her assessment, she reached for the nearest door, “Is it this one?” she laughed throwing it open, only to find the bathroom. “…oh, looks like we’ll have to try again...”

“Genette!” Bond said, more firm this time, for whatever little good it did, “It was my JOB to pay attention to you yes, but I didn’t ‘notice’ you…” The agent glanced around desperately. Wasn’t Q supposed to have some brilliant master plan for all of this? Where was he?

“…Didn’t notice me?” she raised a brow, smiling at him as if he were just playing hard to get, “…I don’t believe you..”

“You’re not my type!” he tried, a ploy so desperate that to this day he will not discuss just how far he was reduced. Letting girls down easily was not James Bond’s forte. He was a slip out in the pink and grey beginnings of morning, or disappear with the explosions and gun powder kind of guy. James Bond had never had to give the ‘ it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. Especially not to a woman who was just growing into the title. Grasping the next door handle, she laughed as if James were playing some big joke.

“Not your type? Why am I not your type?” Her laughter continued, even as she flung the door open in triumph and stepped through.”

“Because, my dear,” the ever posh and dulcet tones of the Quartermaster cut through Genette’s giggling, causing it to die in her throat. She took in the sight of the pale, willow lean body lounging comfortably on James’ bed, clad only boxers. Book in hand and glasses slipping low on his nose, Q regarded Genette knowingly, “You don’t have a cock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Q's final line was the direct Sense8 quote, and right before Genette entered her dialogue with James is fairly similar to the Sense8 scene out of necessity. That was the whole section that made me want to write this. I couldn't not picture the boys in this scene when I watched Sense8 and then the idea went from there. What did you think?
> 
>  
> 
> Please comment, review....
> 
> I wasn't sure about Genette's characterization here, but the next few chapters are were it will all become a little more distinct with her. Her role is really only to help facilitate these two schmoopy heads do schoomp things ^^; Wish I could say in the grand scheme there was more depth for her to use. I'm just awful, hahah....


	3. Sleepless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confronted with the mostly nude lover of her ex-bodyguard and crush, Genette is frozen. Q takes charge and tries to get some semblance of control back. Of course it requires tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I am so sorry for the delay!!!!!! As I mentioned in the comment threads, work and personal life just got away from me the past few days. Everything is settled now though, and I bring you CHAPTER 3. I hope it lives up to expectations, I found this one more challenging to write.  
> As usual, unbeta'd.
> 
> I wanted to thank you all again for you love and support, it means a lot to me!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing ~ 
> 
> (I feel like there was so much I'm forgetting to say, but for the life of me it's just not coming back...)

* * *

_“Because, my dear,” the ever posh and dulcet tones of the Quartermaster cut through Genette’s giggling, causing it to die in her throat. She took in the sight of the pale, willow lean body lounging comfortably on James’ bed, clad only boxers. Book in hand and glasses slipping low on his nose, Q regarded Genette knowingly, “You don’t have a cock.”_

 

          Genette stood frozen. It couldn’t be. She’d never been this wrong about someone before. She also had never flown thousands of miles and shown up at that person’s door before, so perhaps the gravity of her mistake was a little more daunting in this situation. Surely though, this was all some cosmic joke?

Sitting up from the pillows, Q gracefully set his book aside and adjusted his glasses. It seemed someone was going to have to take charge here.

“…Love, would you start the kettle for us? I do think this is going to require some Earl Grey.” He addressed Bond gently, voice warm as he gazed at the older man.

“Of course.” James smiled easily at the Quartermaster, his own expression fond if not affectionate. The man didn’t miss a beat; Q would have to grant him that. Years of training and experience adapting to sudden changes in circumstance meant the agent was prepared, at least on the surface, for his sudden new relationship with the Quartermaster. That didn’t mean however that behind closed doors there wasn’t going to be a word or twelve exchanged. (Really, as if the anemic academic was Bond’s type!)

“Thank you, dear.” Q returned James’ smile, rising from the bed. “I think it’ll go a sight better if there’s tea in my hand when you explain to me exactly why you brought home a young girl from your trip. _Honestly James_ ,” a fond exasperation crept into the boffin’s voice,” your penchant for bringing strays home aside – this is extreme even for you. I said I wanted a souvenir from one of the local shops, not one of the locals.”

He raised a finger in warning, seeing James about to protest, “Ah, ah – tea! You’ve got your marching orders solider. Now,” he continued, spinning towards Genette, and leaving Bond to sulk as the agent trod to the kitchen, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m William, William Davshire. Not the best first impression I’ve made, I’m sure…” he smiled self-deprecatingly, motioning to his current state of attire. “However, given the lateness of the hour I hope you’ll forgive my manners, Miss….?”

“G-genette” she spoke, instinctively taking her cue from the trailing speech of the man before her. “Genette Vanboerg. I’m sorry, this….this got a bit away from me. I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around everything. Jamie is gay? _You’re_ his lover?”

“Quite” Q assured with a soft, polite laugh. He was British after all.

“You’re sure?”

“Last time I checked.” His smile tightened just ever so slightly.

“Really?” she deadpanned, unbelieving. James Bond was a walking ad for ‘Sex by Calvin Klein’, how could he be tied down to such an alabaster skinned geek? She might be willing to concede James wasn’t one hundred percent straight, but this….

“Well” Q returned, just as flat, “I might have been a bit distracted biting the pillow at the time, but I’d say I was lucid enough to know whose cock it was causing all the fuss.”

Genette froze again, going a shade or two more ashen with this revelation.

“Now then,” the Quartermaster continued on, effectively ending the conversation, “tea?”

With the young girl not trusting her voice just yet, she simply nodded, following without protest back down the hall she’d just come from. It was a short walk at least; despite being on MI6 payroll this WAS London, and square footage came at prices that even gas companies would deem excessive. Walking into the open concept kitchen, Q moved easily past James to the far left cupboard. “Here darling,” he said, pulling three mugs down before handing them to the Agent currently brewing tea.

Bond took them with a thankful smile, but internally raised a brow at the choices. Though James was sure it had to have been near the back of the cupboard, Q somehow managed to pull out the agent’s favourite mug. Of the remaining two, one was a larger novelty mug that Alec had given him, and it spoke to a certain familiarity between host and company to be using it. The third was a more generic one, clearly intended for use by unfamiliar guests as its neutral appearance was meant to be as inoffensive as possible to most tastes.

“Should be steeped now,” the double-O remarked instead, keeping any thoughts about the mug choice silent. Perhaps this might just work; it seemed Q’s head for details was coming through. Whether Genette consciously picked up on these things mattered little, it was the subtle hints and cues that the subconscious would register; hopefully the girl’s mind would piece these together and believe that James and Q were a couple. For all she might be young, Bond had sat in on some of Genette’s lessons and private tutoring. She was a bright girl, who observed more than one would assume. Youth did not mean ignorance for the young woman Bond knew was being groomed to take over the family business, and it wouldn’t be easy to fool her.

“Wonderful,”Q grinned, “Genette, how do you take your tea?” he asked, turning from James to fix his gaze back on their guest.

“My tea? Two sugar…” she swallowed, watching as Q mindlessly passed James a jar of honey without looking away from her, or indeed receiving any signal James needed it besides the agent shifting his hand that direction,“…and a dash of milk.”

Q winced, “…I’m sorry, the milk’s gone off and I didn’t have time to pick anymore up. I’m really the only one who uses it. We’ve got a creamer though if you wouldn’t mind a dash of that instead.”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine…” she nodded, watching as James finished the teas.

It had been remarked upon before by Q Branch minions and double-O’s alike that Q and James did seem to possess a synchronicity when interacting. Whether it was Bond returning what little would remain of his tech gear, mission briefings, weapons testing, or indeed brewing tea in the Q Branch break-room, it was like watching a choreographed performance. Each man knew his part perfectly, and needed little, if any, cue from his counterpart. To say it had sparked more than one creative minion’s imagination with photoshop, and inter-departmental fanfictions would be an understatement. Regardless, their ability to work well together was no secret from themselves, but Q was still thankful this new test of their skills was working so far.

“Shall we take a seat?” Q smiled, nodding to the couch as he handed Genette her cup. “I imagine we’ve a lot to discuss, but out of respect to the jetlag you’re no doubt feeling, why not at least make ourselves comfortable.”

With a sigh he sunk into the corner of the couch, and James swiftly took the spot next to him,” We can sort the details out in the morning after a good night sleep. Right now we just need the short hand notes of what’s going on.” James said in agreement to Q’s sentiment. Even a double-O could only fight jet-lag for so long.

With a regretful look between the two, Genette perched primly on the edge of a leather chair, directly opposite the couch. “I am sorry to have arrived so suddenly like this…” she admitted, “You must think me very naïve for thinking…well..” she flashed them a tight smile, still not wholly convinced she was wrong, “When I met Jamie, or rather, when he worked for my father – I got the distinct impression he was not gay. Far from it, I would have said.”

James shook his head, “Clearly I’m not as camp as I thought.”

“Hmm, only at the clubs darling.” Q assured, patting Bond’s knee in a sarcastically placating manner. “Regardless, a mistake was made. We’ve all done something a little foolhardy in the name of love.” His eye narrowed as he assessed Genette. “….Though I am curious as to what he did to make you think he might harbor affections specifically for you, I do know my James is a born flirt; he’s rather easy to misread.”

“I’d have to agree.” She nodded, her voice tight. Such a miscalculation was clearly not in whatever plan she had, but it wasn’t hard to appreciate her anger and embarrassment at being scorned by the object of her affection, whatever the reasons.

“As long as you’re both in agreement then,” Bond’s acerbic tone tried to cut through and defend what little honour he had.

“James worked for your father you said?” the Quartermaster continued conversationally, and ignoring Bond entirely, leaving the agent to sip rapidly cooling tea.

“That must mean you’re the daughter James kept telling me about. I must say, when he said little girl, I was picturing someone a little closer to 12 than 20. In his eyes you must be though, with the age gap,” Q continued, observing with all the edge of an Englishman too polite to directly insult someone. He might be willing to host her, and forgive the mistakes of youth, but they still couldn’t be certain of her true motives until they’d had time to do a thorough check. “Does your father know you’re here?”

“I texted him before I left,” Genette responded calmly, though her eye may have started to develop a distinctive twitch if you looked closely enough,“but he hardly needs to be informed of my whereabouts. I’m a legal adult now.” She finished, pointedly looking at Bond.

“Yes, for all of five minutes, congratulations.” Q smiled tightly, “Parents still worry Genette, no matter how old you are.”

“Especially a man like your father,” James echoed, “Family means everything to him. I imagine he would have discouraged this particular trip, but I’m sure he would have encouraged you to travel. That is what young people do these days isn’t it? Backpack across Europe? Go on a journey to ‘find themselves’.” He turned to Q for help.

“Something like that.” The boffin agreed, giving Bond’s knee a squeeze this time. “They don’t join the navy anymore like you did.”

“I had my reasons,” he answered calmly enough, “It was hard work and built character, unlike some glorified cross-Europe camping trip.”

“Oh yes, months at sea surrounded by other young men; I’m sure it was absolutely _back breaking_ for you.” Q said with a roll of his eyes, fighting down laughter. “Now, back to the topic please as I should like to sleep sometime tonight. Her father knows she is here, so there’s no need to contact him just yet. Although, Genette, I would at least call him to let him know you’ve arrived safely.”

Genette inclined her head in agreement, “I’m sure I have about ten missed calls from him. I’ll ring him tomorrow.”

“Good.” Q smiled, seemingly inclined to take a softer approach now the main obstacle was clear, “Obviously you’re more than welcome to stay with us tonight, but I’m not sure what you had planned exactly…Did you book a hotel? How did you even know where to find him?”

“No…” she flushed, embarrassment now creeping into her voice, “I didn’t expect to be rejected. To be honest though, I wasn’t thinking very clearly at all before I left. I couldn’t stand one more lecture about why I was only allowed to take ‘useful’ courses at University. I just needed to get away from home for a little while, really, and Jamie leaving is what pushed me. Having him around had been fun, and what girl wouldn’t dream of those sky blue eyes? There’s been a lot of pressure on me lately, and it was suffocating. I didn’t have much of a plan beyond get here and find Jamie. I was worried when I wasn’t able to catch the same flight as him, but a few tears later and the airline workers were convinced that I’d been separated from my Uncle. They were all too happy to look up his passport and flight information for me. After that, I just had to grab a cab. When I had pictured actually getting here it was supposed to be a…”

“…Fairytale fantasy? I’ve been there…” the boffin nodded outwardly in understanding. Internally however, Q’s mind was whirring with possibilities. Yes, they had used James' given name for this alias, something that was not an uncommon practice. His passport information should have been changed accordingly though to reflect the alias’ information. How in the seven hells had a slip up that big not been caught?! There were checks and balances in place to prevent against this very same and very amateur error. First chance he had Q would have to begin an internal audit. Someone was getting raked over the coals for this.

“You can’t run away from home forever, Genette.” Was what Q actually said aloud though, facial cues betraying nothing of his internal dilemma, “Nor are you going to find what you’re looking for in a man old enough to be your father. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Q stood with a gentle yawn, patting James’ knee as he did so, before abandoning his tea cup on the coffee table.

“That’s got that settled though. You’re staying here tonight we’re not sending you out at this hour to find a hotel. A good night sleep will give us all a little more clarity I think; we can sort out what to do next tomorrow. Everything looks brighter in the morning after all. I’ll get the spare blankets and pillows for our guest; you go get ready for bed James.” It really was too bloody late to drag this on any longer. Q knew they both had their initial reads of the girl but nothing more could be done now that couldn’t wait till they’d all had a decent rest. Besides, the Quartermaster could feel the agent next to him practically vibrating. James was not pleased right now, and Q knew he was going to have to sit through an infamous double-O tantrum.

James smiled wearily up at Q though, and stood to obey as he continued to play his part perfectly, “…All right. Don’t be too long then.” He warned.

“Won’t be a moment,” the quarter master assured him, watching James’ muscular form retreat down the hallway and to the bedroom. Satisfied James had listened, Q moved to the long ottoman against the wall, and lifted the top to get spare blankets and a pillow.

“There we are.” He smiled, placing them on the couch for her to set up to her liking. “If you need any more blankets or another pillow they are just in the ottoman there. You know where the bathroom is and the kitchen obviously. Help yourself to what you like; I’m sure James won’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Genette smiled in return, jetlag now apparent in the slump of her shoulders and the desperate rapid blinking of her eyes.

“Sleep well,” Q chuckled, “Just shout if you need anything else. You’ll be all right out here?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m just grateful you didn’t toss me out…”

“What? We would never hear of it Genette. Even if James hadn’t enjoyed his position with your family, he’d never toss a young lady onto the streets like that. Now, focus on getting some sleep. You look as dead as I feel,” he shook his head.

“I will…” she managed a polite, if weary, smile as she climbed into her blanket pile on the couch.

“Good night.” He called one last time, heading down the hall to the waiting giant. “I’ll see you in the morning….” _Hopefully,_ he added under his breath, bracing himself to face a jetlagged 007.

He really needed to discuss the addition of hazard pay into his contract.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill, please comment/give feedback and otherwise just all around say Hi! I love hearing from you.
> 
> What did you think? 
> 
> Next chapter should be up around Sunday. :) Cheers!


	4. Late Nights and Early Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q braces for the inevitable blow-up with 007, and struggles to balance being abruptly thrust into the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG GUYS
> 
> I have no words, I am SO sorry for this delay.....
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I PROMISE I will try to update more regularly.
> 
> As usual, unbeta'd :

* * *

 

 

_He really needed to discuss the addition of hazard pay into his contract._

 

With one fluid motion, the lissome form of the Quartermaster stepped through the doorway into the room, and shut the door behind him. Just shy of being hurried, he knew that he needed to be concise in his actions. Right now, that door was the only thing giving them privacy with each other, something the young man knew would be necessary for the upcoming conversation.

Looking up finally to assess the situation, Q was not surprised to see that he had predicted correctly; Bond was stalking along the length of the room, pacing like a caged lion. For a moment, that imagery was startlingly too real. Still, Q was the Quartermaster and above all else – British. He was hardly going to let the lion know the little songbird’s feathers were ruffled.

“James,” he greeted pre-emptively, wordlessly raising a finger at the agent to signal silence. “Why aren’t you in bed? Come along then,” the Quartermaster sighed good-naturedly, even as his steps took him towards the discarded messenger bag beside the bed. Nimble fingers quickly pulled out what appeared to be a set of small Bluetooth speakers. Q set them on the nightstand, one finger still raised in Bond’s direction.

“…and…there we are.” Q sighed in relief lowering his finger once the speakers were seemingly set up to his satisfaction. “Noise cancelling speakers. They alter frequencies and – forget it. I’m too tired to explain my brilliance to you.” Pointing to the speakers now, Q spoke slower. “Fancy machine make noise, no one outside hear us.”

Looking back on it later, Q would see that was where he went wrong.

“B-Bond!” the long-limbed boffin cried out sharply, back scrapping against the wall as James held him in place. It had taken two, maybe three whole seconds for the double-O to close any remaining space between them and force the younger man back, cornering him against the wall.

“I don’t find this funny, Quartermaster. A CHILD was able to locate my flat with nothing more than bright blue eyes and mediocre acting skills. A goddamn child, Q!! Who else could have gotten that information? WHO?! This is supposed to be the ONE place I don’t need to watch my back every waking second.”

“D-dammit James! PUT ME DOWN!” Q ordered as he struggled against the rough hands pinning his arms to the wall. “THAT is what I am going to figure out. I’m not some third rate programmer living in his mother’s basement, and after all this time I’d have thought you’d know that! You’ve seen how I run my department, James, and how I handle my team. How I handle my Agents. If you think for one second that my Agent’s safety is not my top priority…” Forcing himself to breathe, Q’s fists trembled, his voice shaking with anger as he spoke.

Noticing the tense state of the Quartermaster, Bond took a breath of his own and slowly he released his hold on Q.

“Q, I’m sorry, I – “

“I don’t want to hear it James. I’ve got bigger priorities right now, so if you’re quite done with your show of force I’d like to get to work. Not only do I need to run my department from afar for the foreseeable future, I need to somehow convince an eighteen year old girl that you’re shagging me senseless and quite pleased by the idea! There’s also any number of ways her presence here puts us all at danger now. Between our lovely house guest, doing my actual job and now having an entire Branch to put under review, my hands are a little full. ”

“…Right…” James nodded, stepping back, “...I’ll just –“

“Get in to bed.” Q said firmly, Quartermaster voice in place. “Maybe you like to let your guises slip in the luxury of your hotel room when you’re on missions, but right now we do NOT have that freedom. The possibility exists that Genette was not the only one who decided to follow ‘James Bond’ home. Anything and everything we can do to distance ourselves from the ‘James Bond’ they’ll likely be here to kill, the better. That includes playing this rather elaborate game of ‘House’. Not to mention that regardless of needing to maintain your cover with Markus, we need to be rested and ready.”

“Yes, you’re right,” the agent said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll be joining me then?”

“We can hardly have Genette bursting in here with a morning wake up call to find me curled on the floor now can we?” Q asked with all the charm of a boffin running low on caffeine and patience. “She’s going to have enough questions for us tomorrow. I’m hardly going to give her more fuel.”

“You mean you’ve got MORE planned? Q, should I be concerned how easily a picture of us in domestic bliss is coming to you?”

“Please Bond, don’t flatter yourself. I have an IQ that tested at 168, and that’s only because I was bored during the exam. Thinking on my feet is not as difficult as you’d like to make it out to be. Most of what we need to do will simply come from our own interactions, but the rest is going to be for me to worry about and for you to just accept. Why, are you having a hard time playing for the other team, James?”

“It’s the home team, Q, I hardly have an issue with pretending to be your partner. I have an issue with not knowing what is going on Quartermaster. Or should I say, ‘William’?”

“JAMES” he hissed, about as fierce as the chubby house cat he seemed to be trying to imitate. “Right now we hardly have the luxury of planning ahead. You’ve had to think on your feet before with me in your ear, this is not any different. You need to trust me, my intel, and my skills. I need you to let me do MY job. We both know that is not going to happen if you’re going to question me at every turn. Now, it’s 3am, get some sleep and let me work.”

“Yes, dear.” James conceded, quickly recognizing Q’s angry kitten voice. Despite the agent’s own frustrations, and his reputation, James Bond was not without reason. He knew the Quartermaster had a point. If James was being really honest, it was not hard to see that perhaps he had taken it a step too far with his accusations against the boffin. Q had his position for a reason, and he had proven time and again that he was more the capable of handling the role of Quartermaster. All the double-Os in fact, had a trust in Q that they gave few others. He would never leave an agent behind, and he certainly would not let such a breach of security stand unchallenged. This situation, the breach, it was not Q’s fault.

A withering glare was what the Agent received in return for his attempted placation, the boffin now more focused on grabbing his laptop and setting up camp on the queen sized bed. Not hesitating, Bond shed what little remained of his clothing till he was left only in his pants. If his ego was bruised when the lithe Quartermaster seemed to take no notice of this new state of dress, well, James was hardly going to say that aloud. Still, he could quite confidently say that this was the most uneventful night he had ever spent in bed with another man.

Alec could never find out, James wouldn’t be allowed to live it down. Ever.

For all that it was an uneventful night, it was restful. The agent managed to fall asleep in short order, the Quartermaster’s presence beside him far from the annoying distraction he anticipated it would be. If anything, it was pleasant.

Morning came all too soon for the jetlagged double-O however, and for once in his life he did not wake with the sun and an impeccable internal alarm clock.

“James,” Q said softly, giving the agent a gentle nudge. “Come on love. I put the coffee on for you, but we’ve got a lot to get done today.”

Groggy with sleep, Bond reached towards the direction he heard Q, arms wrapping around the warm thin form they located. While his brain struggled to catch up to the actions of his body, the agent was left in a half dream state, not entirely convinced that what he perceived was real. Of course, you weren’t going to hear the agent complain. He was going to enjoy this dream while it lasted. James smiled his eyes barely creaking open as he tugged the boffin down onto the bed with him again.

“Morning…” James greeted huskily, his lips pressing sweetly to Q’s.

“M-morning…” the quartermaster managed to squeak when he regained control over his own lips once more. Q swallowed, his tongue darting out to swipe across the newly abused flesh.

“You taste of bergamot and honey…”

“I- I’m British…”

“Hmm.” James huffed, nipping at Q’s bottom lip.

“You taste of haggis and turnips.”

“I’m Scottish.”

“No, you need to brush your teeth…” Q countered decisively, his nose crinkling.

“Perhaps,” James conceded with a laugh.

“I think you both need to get out of bed before the breakfast gets cold…” Genette supplied from the doorway, irritation in her voice.

Oh, right.

Reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goddammit, Genette.
> 
> Goddammit.


	5. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced to play 'House', how will their new relationship stand up in public?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!!
> 
> I know it's been a long time and I can't even begin to describe how much it's bothered me that I haven't been able to post. Please accept my apologies, and believe me when I say I do still plan on seeing this through!
> 
> As always, please know that this isn't beta'd or anything of the like. Nor do I own anything to do with this story! My life would be vastly different if I did, trust me ; )

_“I think you both need to get out of bed before the breakfast gets cold…” Genette supplied from the doorway, irritation in her voice._

_Oh, right._

_Reality._

 

57.

That was the number of ways Bond could think of to kill Genette where she stood without the leaving the bed, or Q’s arms. 64 if he was willing to shift slightly to the left and lose Q’s embrace, so 57 it was. Though, a dead body could be a ‘mood killer’ for some people, and Q did seem like the type to get ‘sticky’ over a murder. Well, a murder about 20 feet away, and one that if Bond was being particularly honest was not strictly ‘necessary’.

“Come on you great lump of Scot,” Q sighed, nudging James’ cheek with his nose. “Genette is right. I came here for a purpose. We’ve got plenty of time to make up for your abesence, but we do have errands that need done today love.”

“Hmm, promises, promises William.” Was the half-yawned reply as Bond obligingly if not grudgingly sat up.

“Yes yes,” the Quartermaster laughed, “Come on now. Get ready. Let’s not kid ourselves here James, you’re more bark than bite at this age. Be ready in 10 or it’s just a quick bite of toast for you otherwise. We’re meeting my sister at half 11 and you know how stroppy she gets if we’re late.”

“Oh however could I forget”, James sighed. If he was the type to feel fear, or unease, he might have said that a certain sense of foreboding laced the conversation. After all, just how many MI6 operatives would Q have trusted to recruit for this ‘mission’?

Answer: Eve Moneypenny. AKA Hell in High Heels AKA M’s Right Hand (wo)Man AKA The bloody woman who couldn’t fire straight.

(That last one might have been a bit harsh on reflection, and James would like to sincerely withdraw the statement, on the grounds that Eve may actually kick his arse for it)

As it turned out, even though James was promptly showered, shaved and ready in ten minutes he was still only allowed a slice of buttered toast for breakfast, which Q happily shoved into James’ waiting mouth while simultaneously pulling the agent towards the door. “Sorry love,” the boffin smiled apologetically, “But my sister texted and she’s got to head into the office this afternoon now so we need to try and meet her a bit earlier.”

For his part James merely grunted around his slice of toast, trained eyes tracking Genette as she led the way out the door and into the hall. Q wasn’t about to complain though, this was the most obedient he’d ever seen 007. The other shoe was bound to drop sooner or later, so he would take the cooperation while he had it.

Pressing close to James’ left side instinctively, Q linked their arms, “I promise we can stop long enough at the café to grab a decent cup of coffee love, all right? We just need to help Eve approve the final cake design for grandmere’s 85th, and knowing my sister our options are already narrowed considerably. She’ll end up choosing the lemon cake with strawberry buttercream, and I assume some sort of floral design. Hardly rocket science.”

Good naturedly James let out of a huff of breath, laughter filling his tone, “I know our presence is merely a formality. Your sister just never fails to find new ways to….test my affections for her…”

“James…” the Quartermaster scolded lightly, fighting the smile that curled the edges of his mouth. Both men were well aware their conversation was under fierce scrutiny from their ‘house guest’. To be honest, Q was a bit surprised at how well he and James were playing off each other. Body language certainly wasn’t going to give them away, and their conversation held a comfortable ease that was borne of familiarity not study. He couldn’t imagine the amount of money that would exchange hands if his minions were watching them now. Treasonous snakes.

“Will!” Moneypenny cried warmly, if not with a touch of the brisk pace expected of a Londoner. Had they really arrived at the café so soon? James mentally scolded himself for losing touch with his surroundings.

“Eve, my dearest, you look horrendous as usual.” Q greeted in bright return, disengaging from James long enough to give the lithe woman a brotherly embrace, and peck on the cheek. “What is that? Armani? Awful. You look so stunning it makes me want to vomit.”

“Hmm, I’m sure little brother.” She smiled before her eyes flicked away to take in the double-O agent. “James, a pleasure as always.”

James nodded in response, laughter in his eyes as he smiled at her. It was only half a moment more before the assassin-turned-PA spotted her friends’ companion. “....and this is?” her voice trailed off, a withering gaze sizing the young woman up and clearly finding her lacking.

“Oh! Where are my manners? Eve, this is Genette. She is the daughter of James’ last employer and is…erm…visiting London. She’ll be staying with us during her time here. Genette this is my older sister, Eve.”

“Your sister?” Genette smiled, her voice just hesitant enough to belie her disbelief the stunning Eve Moneypenny, distinctly a woman of colour, could be the sister of a man so pale he frankly bordered on sickly.

“Ah, you don’t see the family resemblance?” Q teased lightly, “Our parents met and married before I was even out of diapers. Quite scandalous of them really, but Eve and I have always been close. Blood was merely a formality. Now then, shall we carry on? I can smell the cinnamon rolls from here and I’m positively gasping for a good cuppa.”

A lecherous smirk crept over Bond’s face as his mind raced with quips relating to Q and gasping; none of which he was foolish enough to voice in the presence of Eve however. Instead, like the clever agent he was, he politely held the door for everyone as they made their way in. In short order their little group was situated at a small table with their drinks, and a planning book that Eve promptly thrust under Q’s nose. It was Moneypenny to a fault, detailed and organized, the planner brimming with various cut outs of party items and its margins filled with notes written in her flawless cursive.

For the next half hour James affected the look of a dutiful partner waiting for his better half. He commented thoughtfully enough when addressed to show he was paying attention, but otherwise let the two ‘siblings’ handle the planning. He studiously avoided Genette’s scrutinizing gaze during the time, letting the bitter espresso of his Americano have all his focus. The agent was all too thankful when Eve finally stood and announced her departure.

“Eve, it was lovely to see you again.” James smiled, standing to give her cheek a parting kiss.

“James it’s so sweet of you to lie like that.” She smiled in return, bearing an unfortunate resemblance to a lion in that moment. “Until next time.” Q didn’t try to fight the roll of his eyes as he watched the exchange, waving as Eve stepped out of the quaint café and into the hustle and bustle of London.

“Well, that was a success” the young boffin teased, “No bloodshed this time. Thank you for putting up with them Genette.” He smiled sweetly to the young girl, as if her presence here had actually been planned , “Now, I’d like to run a couple quick errands before we stop by my apartment. Do you think that would be all right?”

“Of course darling.” James smiled, “We can fit in some sightseeing for Genette along the way then.”

“Right. Perfect.” Q answered all British manners, and not for a moment sincere; something Genette’s sharp eyes didn’t miss, seeing it in the pull around the younger man’s eyes. A subtle reminder that ‘William’ didn’t enjoy the barely legal girl’s presence, given that her entire goal was to shack up with _his_ man.

Not that Bond was his _anything_ , in actuality, but perhaps….just perhaps…. Q’s method acting was hitting too close to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!!!! please comment below, I'm personally conflicted over this chapter but I hope to be back in the groove for the next chapter. 
> 
> Much love,
> 
> Baristaproblems


	6. Code Mulberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief look into the current state of Q-Branch (and all of MI6 really) without the magnetic presence of our two favourite boys.  
> Or, if you rather, an enlightening glimpse into the leadership style of Ms. Eve Moneypenny.

 

 

 

_Click. Click._

What was that noise?

_Click. Click._

There it was again. Wait…

_Click. Click._

It couldn’t be.

_Click. Click._

“ N-no..”

“What is it Peterson?” Myers yawned, sitting is boredom as he waited yet again for their archaic fax machine to finish sending a document before he could move on to the next. (Don’t tell Q-Branch, they firmly believe fax machines only exist in legend and the 1980’s.)

“She’s coming! Don’t you hear it?” the man hissed in response, “She’s coming!”

“Hear what? Peterson, who is coming?”

“Moneypenny” he whispered, frightened, as if speaking the name might draw her faster.

The other man nearly flew from his chair, the metal legs scraping against the floor before catching the edge of one tile and toppling back from the force, hitting the floor with a hollow clatter.

“We can’t be here!”

“We can’t abandon the others Myers! We have to warn them!”

“Are you insane?! Look man, we all knew the risks when we came into work today…You got the same email from Q-Branch I did.”

“Exactly! We knew the risks. CALCULATED risks! In war your brother is supposed to have your back! I’m calling it. You can leave if you must….but I’m going in. They need to know. They need to have a fighting chance.”

“Dammit Peterson! What is it with you and your heroics?! F-fine.  Fine we’ll warn them, but we need to hurry.”

“I knew you had it in you, Myers.” Peterson grinned, clapping a hand to the other’s shoulder. Without a resolute breath, Peterson turned and led the charge from the accounting office down the hall to Q-Branch. The incessant clicking of Eve’s stilettos only echoed louder and more menacing as they fumbled with the key card desperately trying to gain access. It seemed like a lifetime, but a small beep of agreement signaled success and the doors to Q-Branch hissed open.

“CODE MULBERRY. I REPEAT CODE MULBERRY” Peterson bellowed, pushing his way into the branch before the doors even opened fully. At first the chatter and bustle of the branch continued, not entirely unused to loud distractions coming in. (i.e – double-O agents)  It only took a moment however for the Ravenclaw-esque minds of Q-Branch to register just what was being screamed at them, and the entire branch came to a petrified halt. No one dared move or even whisper. The typical clacking of keyboards came to a grinding end, tea mugs fell from hands too limp with surprise to bear their weight any longer.

“Mulberry? Y-you must be joking!” One brave, if ignorant, boffin challenged breaking the silence.

“Did I STUTTER?” Peterson snapped, rounding on the tech analyst. Code Mulberry was never a joke.

“No, I don’t believe you did,” the silken tone of an all too familiar voice washed over the group, coming from just outside the Q-Branch entrance doors. The same click from the hall could be heard again, stiletto on tile as the devil herself entered the branch. “Hello boffins. I trust you’ve all been working hard.” Eve grinned, gazing out at the branch before her with a predatory edge. It was in this moment many a boffin had the sudden and horrific realization that their affairs were not at all in order in the event of their untimely demise – a scenario that seemed to be increasingly likely.

“One of you wouldn’t happen to know just why we are facing what is possibly one of our biggest security breaches in MI6 history, would you?” Eve drawled, her sharp eyes roving over the room looking for any signs of what one can only assume is weakness. “No? No one? Not a single taker? Well then, someone please tell me that you’ve managed to organize that Hive-Mind so infamous to Q-Branch and at least begun investigating?” Again the huntress waited for a response, her normally elegant features contorting to a fury only reflected in renderings of the Valkyries as she received a less than reassuring murmur from the tech analysts before her.

“Oh my darlings. Wrong. Answer.” She hissed, her gaze unflinching as she addressed the branch. “Peterson, Myers – both of you had best return to your posts you’ve so carelessly abandoned. I’ll deal with the both of you later, personally. As for the rest of you – the fact that I don’t see fingers moving, or hear the usual disdainful murmurings you’re all so fond of tells me that not one of you wants to keep their job. Now, I may not be Q, but right now I AM your leader. I want you all working on tracing this leak – How did this barely college aged girl successfully follow a double-O agent not only back to the country, but to his own home? J-Pod I want you tracking emails associated with all involved individuals, you have the list. D-Pod I want you all on passport control and flight itineraries. K, M and F Pods you’re assigned to reviewing all surveillance taken during Bond’s mission.”

“Yes ma’am” Each Pod of analysts chorused with near military precision; no one was fool hardy enough to question Moneypenny’s orders.  They liked their spleens on the inside thank you very much. Typing and disdainful murmuring resumed promptly in the desperate hope that it might save them all from further wrath, after all, they knew the protocols and should have already been organized after they found out about the leak early this morning. A small part of each boffin knew however, that for the next year they were going to be at the mercy of Moneypenny’s metaphorical perfectly manicured claws. Not an enviable position to be in to say the least.

“Wonderful.” Their new interim leader retorted, her fury still barely contained beneath her designer clad surface, “Now if you’ll excuse me I will be in Q’s office keeping tabs on Bond and his new friend.” Moneypenny paused just a moment, daring any questions or contradictions, only to be met with sweet, obedient silence. “Perfect.” She smiled, heels clicking once more as she made her way to Q’s office.

When the tell-tale pneumatic hiss of Q’s office door shutting could be heard, one foolish analyst in J-Pod dared to break the silence.

“H-hey…d-does anyone else think it’s weird that as soon as this stuff with 007 started, Q stopped coming to work? Like, do we even know where Q is? I haven’t seen him come in today… Or why is Moneypenny the one keeping tabs on Bond and the girl? How did we even find out there was a leak? No one was even monitoring Bond once he got back into the country…I mean, it’s not even protocol to monitor an agent post mission unless they fail to check in within 3hours…”

Each tech within earshot froze, all wordlessly moving their chairs a few more inches away from the J-Pod analyst that apparently had a death wish. Having his questions greeted only with silence, the analyst was smart enough to just return quietly to his work but it would be too little too late, as an unusual mark appeared that exact moment on his personnel file.

 

 

(No one questioned it when he didn’t show up the next day. Or the next. Code Mulberry was never a joke.)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed our brief detour! I know the writing style is probably quite different from the last few chapters but I found this one required a very different perspective when writing it. (However poorly written it may be haha)
> 
> Side Note: Condolences may be sent to the family of the poor tech analyst care of MI6. Code Mulberry training has been re-evaluated and new programs are in place to better help the employees with risk assessment as a result of this....incident.


End file.
